


The Accident

by genkisakka



Category: Kyou Kara Maoh!
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genkisakka/pseuds/genkisakka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuri had just wanted Wolfram to stop hogging his bed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time was an accident. Yuuri would swear to that on whatever holy book was handy.

The young demon king was startled awake that night, as on many other nights, to find himself teetering on the edge of his bed, a split-second away from tumbling onto the floor. The cause of his predicament was a slender, strong foot planted squarely in the small of his back.

_That damned bed-hog!_ Yuuri gritted his teeth and pushed against his erstwhile fiance's offending limb, and Wolfram rolled over with a snuffle that reminded the young king of a basset hound he'd seen once in the park near his home on Earth. Yuuri sighed and leaned back against his pillow, then sat up with a yelp when he encountered Wolfram's shoulder instead. The demon prince had somehow managed to sprawl diagonally across the bed, taking up almost every spare centimeter of mattress space.

"That's it," Yuuri hissed, shoving Wolfram's shoulder. "Dammit, Wolfram, this is MY bed," he whispered as the blond mumbled an inarticulate protest and clutched at Yuuri's pillow. "If you won't share, then get out!"

He loosened Wolfram's grip on the pillow and pushed him to the other side of the bed, losing half the blankets in the process. Yuuri decided he could accept the lack of covers if it meant having more than a sliver of mattress to himself. He closed his eyes and lay back with a contented sigh, burrowing his head deeply into the down pillow as he drifted back to sleep.

Yuuri guessed he'd managed about two uninterrupted hours of slumber before the absence of blankets had him shivering awake just before dawn. He stared blearily at the wall for a second before closing his eyes and rolling over, groping blindly for the numerous blankets he remembered tucking himself into when he'd gone to bed hours before. His hands brushed against something warm and solid covered in a silky fabric. Wolfram wrapped in his down duvet, was Yuuri's grumpy assumption.

"Gimme some covers, Wolfram," Yuuri muttered, tugging at the duvet, which felt a lot lighter than he recalled and wasn't coming loose at all. "C'mon you selfish bastard," he growled, opening his eyes.

That's when he saw that the duvet wasn't a duvet at all, but Wolfram's pink nightgown, which Yuuri had pulled down enough to expose a good bit of the man's bare chest. He pulled his hands back as if they'd been burned and bit back the stream of indignant protests that followed the embarrassing realization that he'd inadvertently groped the fiance that he loudly and continually insisted he'd never wanted in the first place. They ran through his mind with the speed of a bullet train -- _I didn't mean anything it was your fault you were stealing my covers again I just wanted them back I told you I don't like men like THAT and I'm too young to get married anyway!_

He held his breath, but Wolfram showed no sign of waking. He'd taken over half of Yuuri's pillow, his golden head lying next to Yuuri's own, close enough that Yuuri could count Wolfram's long, dark eyelashes and feel Wolfram's breath ghosting across his cheeks with each light, purring snore the prince emitted. His lips were full and pink, as pretty as any girl's, Yuuri thought, gazing at them as if they were suddenly the most fascinating objects ever.

Yuuri felt dazed, like he'd just fallen off his horse and had the wind knocked from him. The thought wasn't a new one -- Wolfram was certainly more beautiful than anyone he knew, male or female -- but until then it had been a dispassionate observation, like admiring one of Michelangelo's sculptures or Botticelli's paintings during a slide show at school. Now the thought had been given substance, in the form of a pair of lips that Venus herself would envy, laying a hair's breadth from his own. If one of them moved even a tiny bit in the wrong direction, Yuuri thought, then they'd be... they would...

Of course, Wolfram -- that restless sleeper, the one who poked and jostled and shoved Yuuri every which way in his own bed -- of course he would pick that exact moment to nestle closer to Yuuri.

And in that moment, their lips touched. It couldn't have been more than a second or two, a period during which Yuuri forgot to breathe and how to move his limbs and how he absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent did NOT like boys in any way that involved anything more than a brotherly hug or clap on the back.

Then Wolfram's eyes opened just enough to show a touch of green iris, and he smiled sleepily at Yuuri before rolling over and resuming his kitten-like snoring. Yuuri had lay there for a few minutes until his breathing had evened out and his heart had stopped racing, then gotten out of bed and headed straight for the bath. There was no way he would be able to get back to sleep after that... after the...

No, not the kiss -- the accidental lip-touch, Yuuri told himself as he poked at his breakfast. That's what it was -- an unintentional collision of lips, he thought, as Gunter gave him his schedule for the day. It was definitely NOT a kiss! Kisses were something two people decided on, not something that happened by accident in one's sleep. Okay, Yuuri acknowledged, so he hadn't been asleep, exactly, but definitely not fully awake. Because if he had been fully awake, he'd have jumped out of the bed and screamed something full of moral outrage at the devious prince who sneaked into his bed and tried to take advantage of him while he was asleep. Except that Wolfram himself had been asleep when he... when they had...

Yuuri groaned with frustration and let his head drop on top of the pile of papers he was supposed to be signing. Gunter immediately stepped forward anxiously, putting a hand to Yuuri's forehead. "Are you feeling ill, Your Majesty?" he asked. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, maybe? Or a doctor?"

"No, no thank you, Gunter," Yuuri replied, waving his hands sheepishly. "I'll be fine, I just... didn't get much sleep last night."

"Would you like me to speak to Wolfram?" Conrad asked him later during their afternoon baseball practice after Yuuri missed three straight pitches and took a fourth square in the center of his chest protector.

"No!" Yuuri squawked, arms flailing. "I mean... it's not his fault, really." He scowled at that. "Well, it is, but..."

Conrad's lips twitched. "Then perhaps I should post a guard outside your bedroom?" he suggested. "To keep out any uninvited nighttime guests?" Conrad managed to keep a straight face, but Yuuri didn't miss the spark of amusement in his godfather's eyes.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," he grumbled.

"I apologize, Your Majesty," Conrad said immediately. This time, Yuuri observed, he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"You don't sound sorry at all," Yuuri huffed. "And it's 'Yuuri,' remember? It's not right for the one who named me to call me 'Your Majesty.'"

"Very well, Yuuri. Perhaps we should hold off on practice until you're better-rested," Conrad said, patting Yuuri on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Yuuri said, glumly removing his catcher's mask. Damn Wolfram! He'd ruined Yuuri's favorite part of the day with his stupid bed-hogging and his stupid cover-snatching and his stupid soft lips.

No more, Yuuri resolved that evening in the bath, punching the water for emphasis. If that damned prince tried sneaking into his bed again tonight, Yuuri was kicking his ass right out without hesitation. Then Wolfram would get pissed off and start yelling at him and call him 'wimp' and 'cheater' and ignore him for a few days or so, thus preventing any more accidental lip-touching. And life in Shin Makoku would get back to normal.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time was Greta's fault. Not that Yuuri was really blaming her -- she was only a child and didn't know any better -- but her relentless questions had given Wolfram the opening. And that damned devious prince, who apparently hadn't been as asleep during the previous week's lip-touching incident as Yuuri had thought, had jumped at the chance to even the score with that --

No, Yuuri thought angrily, rolling over for the tenth time in the hour since he'd gone to bed in a fruitless quest for sleep. He refused to call THAT a kiss. That stupid mouth-mashing Wolfram inflicted on him in front of Greta was just another maneuver in their never-ending battle of one-upmanship. To call it anything else was to admit Wolfram had the upper hand, and Yuuri would sooner parade naked at high noon through Shin Makoku than concede anything to that arrogant jerk.

Yuuri shifted onto his back and scowled at the ceiling, letting his mind drift over the events of the last several days. He had spent the day after The Accident (as Yuuri was now calling it) preparing himself to confront Wolfram that night when he tried to sneak into Yuuri's bed. But Wolfram never showed up, and Yuuri drifted to sleep sometime after midnight. He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and somewhat annoyed that he hadn't had the opportunity to test his new resolve.

Yuuri kept an eye out for Wolfram all morning. He checked the army's practice field, the palace's sun porch, Gwendal's office… all the prince's usual haunts… but he was nowhere to be found. That afternoon, just as he was about to ask Conrad about his younger brother's whereabouts, Conrad informed him that Wolfram had accompanied Gwendal to one of the kingdom's outlying villages to check on rebuilding efforts in the wake of the spring floods.

"It figures. I finally make up my mind to be tough with him, and he sneaks off," Yuuri said, thumping his bat against the ground. He hoped he sounded more nonchalant than he felt.

"They'll be back in a few days," Conrad said with a benign smile, casually tossing the ball in the air and catching it. His eyes gleamed. "Now, are you ready for my special pitch? I've been working on a new kind of slider."

Yuuri grinned and assumed his batting stance. "You bet! Let me have it," he said, switching his focus from Wolfram to baseball.

The next three days passed in a blur of document-signings and diplomat-greetings, and Yuuri had little time to dwell on Wolfram's absence in all the activity. But when Gwendal's dour countenance greeted Yuuri on the morning of the fourth day, and the king realized Wolfram was back as well, he felt a surge of anticipation. Finally, here was his chance to resolve things with the prince once and for all.

Wolfram tended to skip breakfast in favor of sharing the large lunch the kitchen set out for Yuuri, who liked to build his strength for his afternoon baseball training. Yuuri figured it would be the perfect time to bring up the whole "stop-sneaking-into-my-bed" thing in a casual, friendly manner. Wolfram was a lot less touchy during mealtimes, especially when the weather was fine and they could eat outdoors.

But Wolfram didn't join him for lunch. In fact, Yuuri didn't see Wolfram at all until he went to put Greta to bed that night. He opened the door to find Greta already tucked in and Wolfram perched in Yuuri's usual spot on the edge of the bed.

Wolfram returned Yuuri's glower with a scowl of his own. "What?" the prince snapped, green eyes flashing in unspoken challenge.

Greta was looking from one father to the other with a worried frown, and Yuuri decided he'd best put aside his pique for their daughter's sake. "Nothing," Yuuri replied with forced cheer, pulling a rose-covered wing chair close to Greta's bedside. "Now, where were we in 'Heidi,' Greta?"

Greta held out the book, which fell open easily to the chapter marked by a slender piece of iridescent pink knitting. Gwendal's handiwork, no doubt. Yuuri smiled briefly at the image of the glum, irascible prince with his hands full of sparkly pink yarn.

"Heidi is on her way back to her mountain," Greta said. "I can't wait for her to see her goats again!" She paused. "Yuuri-papa, is it all right if Wolfram-papa reads the next part?" she asked, glancing up at the blond.

"I can't read it, Greta -- the book is in a different language," Wolfram said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'll say goodnight now, okay?" He kissed one round cheek and started to rise, but Greta caught his wrist in both hands.

"Wait, Wolfram-papa! Don't you want to hear about Heidi and her grandfather and the goats and the mountain?" she asked all in a rush.

"I'm sorry, Greta -- I have some matters to attend to before my own bedtime," Wolfram said. He gently extricated himself from the child's grasp and stepped around Yuuri's chair without as much as a glance at his king. Yuuri clenched his teeth and kept his eyes on the open book, determined not to give Wolfram the satisfaction of knowing how much the snub irritated him.

"Wait, Wolfram-papa!" Greta cried out. "Aren't you going to kiss Yuuri-papa goodnight too?"

The book tumbled from Yuuri's suddenly nerveless fingers, landing spine-first on his right foot. "Ouch!" he cried, hopping out of the chair on his uninjured left foot and nearly tumbling onto the bed. He dared a glance at Wolfram, who remained frozen at the foot of Greta's bed, his back to both of them.

Greta patted Yuuri's sleeve consolingly. "Are you all right, Yuuri-papa?"

"Fine! I'm fine," he said in a strangled voice. "But Greta…"

"How come you and Yuuri-papa never kiss each other goodnight?" Greta interrupted, speaking to Wolfram's blue-clad back. Her words tumbled over each other. "I've never even seen you kiss once! You're engaged, so you're a couple, right? And couples kiss each other all the time, I've seen it in the village, and I've seen Hube and Nicola in the hayloft…"

Yuuri gaped at his ward. "Greta, you're too young to be seeing such things!" he said in what he hoped was a stern rather than shocked tone. It was definitely time to change the topic from "Why Wolfram and Yuuri Should Kiss Like All Couples Do" to "Why Greta Shouldn't Spy on People in the Hayloft."

But the rest of his lecture got caught in his throat as Wolfram slowly turned around. One look at the prince's sly smile and narrowed eyes, and Yuuri unconsciously backed away, bumping into the arm of the wing chair. It was the same look Wolfram wore on the battlefield, or during tournaments -- right before he dealt the killing blow.

"Well, you see, Greta," Wolfram said calmly. He took one slow step forward, his gaze fixed on Yuuri. "Kissing is something some couples prefer to do in private."

Wolfram took another step toward Yuuri, who fought the urge to whimper for mercy, and instead stood up straight in an effort to emphasize his half-inch height advantage. "Wolfram makes an excellent point, Greta," he said, pleased at how steady his voice sounded. Before he could expand on it, Wolfram continued --

"Yes, Greta, some people are too shy to kiss their partners in front of other people. They'd rather wait until late at night, when no one else is watching, to do it."

Wolfram was nose to nose with Yuuri now, cheeks pink and eyes bright with a mix of temper and an emotion Yuuri couldn't quite identify. Yuuri felt his whole body flush beet-red at the realization that Wolfram had known all along about The Accident. He dimly wondered if it was possible to die of mortification.

"But we're family," Greta piped from her bed. "It's okay if you want to kiss in front of me. I won't mind, really!"

Yuuri glanced sideways and groaned inwardly at the sight of Greta's intensely attentive expression. Just as Yuuri was making a mental note to keep Greta from spending so much time with those silly love-obsessed kitchen maids, Wolfram grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his half-smirk to Yuuri's slightly open mouth. A few seconds later, Wolfram disengaged his lips with a slight smacking sound.

"Good night, Yuuri," he said with a small, triumphant grin, gliding out of the room before Yuuri could form a coherent protest. The young king stood for a full minute, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before Greta let out a long, dreamy sigh.

"That was so sweet," she said. "I'm glad Wolfram-papa's not mad at you anymore."

Yuuri snapped out of his trance at that pronouncement. "I wouldn't bet on that," he muttered, picking up the book and flipping it open again. His mouth was still tingling from Wolfram's unexpected assault, which had been ridiculous and outrageous and not at ALL pleasant, not even a little bit, he chanted to himself. As he settled into his rightful spot on Greta's bed, Greta touched his fevered cheek.

"Yuuri-papa, your face is so warm! And red… it looks like one of Anissa's poppies!" she giggled "Are you really that shy about kissing? Elysia always thought it was Wolfram-papa that was embarrassed about--"

"All right!" Yuuri interrupted, infusing his voice with as much hearty energy as he could muster. "Time to read more of 'Heidi,' then it's off to sleep with you, Greta dear!" Greta sighed again, this time in resignation, and settled against her pillow as Yuuri began reading with more than his usual enthusiasm in an effort to regain his equilibrium. He finished the chapter and gave his sleepy daughter a goodnight hug and kiss without further comment on the incident.

But as he quietly closed her door behind him and started down the hall toward his private bath, his serene countenance collapsed into a dark scowl worthy of his justice-seeking demonic alter-ego.

What the hell WAS that? was the single thought running in a loop through his brain as he scrubbed himself down and gave his teeth an extra-thorough brushing. He eyed the marble bath, which steamed invitingly, and decided he was too upset for a soak. Damn that demon bastard for spoiling another of his favorite pastimes! He dried off, pulled on his pajamas and stomped off to his bedroom, slamming the door and wishing for the hundredth time it had a lock. But Gunter had been adamant in his refusal to have one installed.

"Your majesty, what if somehow an assassin manages to sneak into the castle and is lying in wait for you when you retire for the night?" he'd wailed. "Your door would be locked, and even if we gave a guard the key, we wouldn't be in time to prevent your death!" Gunter's ever-present concern for his king's well-being made Yuuri feel guilty for even suggesting such a thing, and so he dropped the subject.

But now, as he tossed about in the dark stewing over Wolfram's latest maneuver, he wished he'd pressed the issue more forcefully with Gunter. After all, he was king, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be allowed to lock his own door? Wasn't it his right to sleep in his own bed, by himself, without his subjects intruding on his privacy and invading his personal space whenever they please?

He threw the covers back and flung himself face-down into his pillow. It had to be at least midnight by now, and he was still not in the least bit sleepy, thanks to that stuck-up, sneaky, green-eyed, soft-lipped, citrus-flavored…

Yuuri shook his head vigorously to derail that particular train of thought. "Oh-no-no-NO," he growled, pounding his pillow with each utterance. "I did NOT like… I WILL not think about… dammit! He will NOT get away with this!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: A plastron is a sort of protective torso covering worn under a fencing jacket, not that I've ever fenced in my life (thank you, Google). Also, I've taken some artistic liberties regarding Saralegui; I haven't watched Season 3 yet, so I have no idea if he really has cousins or not. ^_^;;

The third time… well, Yuuri couldn't completely blame it on Conrad, but the nobleman had certainly set the whole thing in motion. Bad enough he had to cancel their baseball practice for some stupid military thing with Gwendal and Josak, but then he had to go and spring his little surprise on Yuuri without any warning.

"But I don't have fencing lessons until tomorrow," Yuuri said as they approached the hall where Gunter trained his young king in the sword arts.

Conrad smiled in an indulgent way that Yuuri found both comforting and annoying. "Your Majesty was just saying the other day how he wanted to improve his swordsmanship before the next festival," Conrad said. "I thought you would appreciate the opportunity to receive some extra practice."

Yuuri sighed. "I suppose," he grudgingly agreed. "But isn't Gunter busy with the preparations for tomorrow's banquet?"

"He is," Conrad said, opening the door for Yuuri, "which is why I found you another instructor for this afternoon."

A slender blond figure in white fencing garb turned at the sound of their voices, and Yuuri stopped dead just inside the doorway. "You have GOT to be kidding me," he sputtered.

Wolfram's glare could have set the air itself on fire. "Conrad, I thought you said I would be training one of your new cadets," he spat. "Not some incompetent wimp who barely knows which end of the sword to hold."

Yuuri made an inarticulate noise of outraged protest. "Now, now, Wolfram, is that any way to address His Majesty?" Conrad chided, placing a restraining hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "I told you I was in need of your considerable talent to train a person of vital importance to our nation's security. Surely that describes our king perfectly, does it not?"

Wolfram gave Yuuri a disdainful glance. "Surely our nation's security is best left to experienced soldiers, rather than some clumsy, weak, naive human child!"

Nothing made Yuuri lose his temper more quickly than Wolfram calling him _human_ in that scornful, condescending tone. He pulled away from Conrad and stomped toward the prince with teeth bared in rage. "That's HALF-human," he roared, "you… you uptight, arrogant, girly looking jerk!" Yuuri felt the Maoh deep within him stir in response to his fury. Apparently Wolfram could sense it too, because his haughty expression faltered a bit, and he took a half-step backward, much to Yuuri's satisfaction.

"Enough!" Conrad's sudden, sharp command was enough to cow both boys into silence and dissipate Yuuri's ire. "Yuuri, you will change into your fencing gear and meet us back here. Wolfram, you will work with His Majesty for a minimum of one hour, at which time Gunter will relieve you." Conrad leveled a piercing gaze at his brother and another at his king. "Am I understood?"

Yuuri bowed his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Conrad," he mumbled. His godfather was one of the kindest, most patient men he knew, and Yuuri felt incredibly guilty when his actions pushed Conrad far enough to upset him.

The king entered the changing room -- really more of an alcove separated from the main room by a curtain -- and quickly stripped off his clothes. He could hear Conrad speaking gently to Wolfram. Yuuri normally didn't approve of eavesdropping, but it wasn't like he could close a door or plug up his ears, so he moved as close to the curtain as he could without revealing himself and listened while he put on his fencing gear.

"Wolfram, must you always be so hard on His Majesty?" Conrad admonished. "He is doing his best to be a good king."

Wolfram was silent for a moment before replying. "He still isn't taking it seriously," Wolfram said. "He thinks being king is some kind of game that he can stop playing whenever he wants."

Yuuri had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting out his defense. _That stupid snob! Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him!_ He gritted his teeth against the lump welling in his throat. Why the hell should he care what Wolfram thought, anyway? Conrad supported him, which was what really mattered to Yuuri.

Proving Yuuri's point, Conrad countered: "Do you really believe that? Consider how many times Yuuri has risked himself to save his people and his kingdom. I would say those are the actions of someone who takes his responsibilities very seriously."

"Does he?" Wolfram kept his voice low, but Yuuri could hear the prince's struggle to contain his anger. "Certainly he has helped us, when he was here and had no way home. But every time he gets the chance, he abandons us and goes back to his human world as fast as he can. We never know when… or if… he will return." Wolfram paused before adding, so softly Yuuri almost didn't hear him:

"How can we rely on someone so fickle?"

Yuuri backed away from the curtain and sank onto a nearby stool, holding his plastron with shaking hands. Wolfram's question had cut through him as surely as one of the prince's elegant sword thrusts. The idea that Wolfram truly believed his king to be an unreliable flake was unpleasant enough; what was worse was that Yuuri wasn't sure the prince was completely wrong.

_It's true that whenever I'm pulled back to Earth, I feel… relieved._ Yuuri winced at that unflattering truth. Ever since he had accepted his destiny as Maoh, he had been forced to deal with a host of complications and hardships that made the pressures of his earthly high-school-student life seem soothing by comparison. It was almost too easy to fall back into the routine of classes and schoolwork and meals with his Earth family, and each time, a small, selfish part of him did indeed hope that he would never have to leave Tokyo again.

_But the important thing is that I always do return,_ Yuuri thought fiercely. He was as much mazoku as he was human, and he had made a vow to become Maoh and protect his ancestral homeland. He was not the kind of person to break a promise, no matter what Wolfram thought of him.

Yuuri gave himself a little shake and pulled on the plastron. He wanted to tell Wolfram, _I will never turn my back on this country, or on any of you._ But he knew Wolfram well enough to know that words alone wouldn't be enough to sway him. If he were to gain Wolfram's trust, Yuuri's actions would have to match his verbal resolve to become the strong, brave, dedicated king that Shin Makoku deserved.

Yuuri fastened the closures on his fencing jacket and picked up his mask and foil. He took a deep breath and stood as straight and tall as he could manage before pushing the curtain aside. Conrad and Wolfram were standing close together, Conrad with his hand resting on his younger brother's shoulder in a comforting way. Wolfram's mouth dropped open in surprise as he caught sight of Yuuri.

"Oh… your fencing clothes are black," he said.

"Ah, yeah," Yuuri said with an embarrassed laugh. "That was Gunter. You know how he is, always making sure I have style no matter what I'm wearing."

Wolfram smiled a little. "Black does suit you," he said, without the least trace of sarcasm. Yuuri recognized the peace offering, and responded in kind:

"Hey, Wolfram, I've been having a hard time with my counterattack -- it's way too slow and clumsy. Can you help me?"

"Of course," Wolfram replied. Conrad smiled approvingly, gave Yuuri a small, silent wave, and exited the hall. Wolfram noted his brother's departure with a brief nod, then donned his protective mask. Before following suit, Yuuri added with a grin:

"Don't go easy on me, OK?"

Wolfram snorted, but Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice as he replied:

"As if I would."

***

Yuuri pulled off his mask and sank onto one of the long wooden benches lining the practice hall, mopping his dripping face with a towel. "No fair," he groaned as Wolfram sat primly beside him. "You worked just as hard as me, and you barely broke a sweat."

Wolfram shrugged. "I've had more practice, so I have more stamina," he said. "It will get easier for you eventually."

Yuuri smiled, enjoying the unusually relaxed atmosphere between them. "You're a good teacher," he said. "You explain things clearly, and you're more patient than I would have thought."

Wolfram made a noise somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "Well, you were more competent than I expected," he admitted. "Though I think I can take credit for the improvement in your strikes during that last match."

The king grinned; Wolfram had barely bested him five touches to four in their final bout. "That's my personal best to date," Yuuri enthused. "Won't Gunter be surprised when I try that parry on him!"

Wolfram looked around. "Speaking of Gunter… wasn't he supposed to be here by now? I thought Conrad said Gunter would relieve me after an hour, and it's already been at least two."

"Really? I had no idea we'd been sparring for so long," Yuuri said. He yawned and stretched before bounding to his feet. "Thanks a lot, Wolfram," he said with a respectful bow. "I appreciate your help, and I had fun, too."

"It was no trouble," Wolfram said with a similar bow. He paused, then added in a rush --

"I would be happy to practice with you again, if you'd like. That is, if Gunter wants a break or you want extra training or…"

_Is he blushing?_ Yuuri's heart pounded a bit harder at the thought. No, he told himself, Wolfram's cheeks were probably still flushed from exertion.

"I would like that very much," Yuuri said, beaming. "Maybe at this time next week?"

"That would be fine." Wolfram looked as if he had more to say, but at that moment Gunter rushed into the hall.

"Your Majesty, my deepest apologies for keeping you waiting!" Gunter bowed deeply. "There were some issues with the seating at tomorrow's banquet that needed my attention." Gunter glanced at Wolfram, his ebullience dimming a bit. "My thanks, prince, for acting in my stead as His Majesty's instructor," he said politely.

Wolfram pressed his lips tightly together and gave a curt, silent nod. Gunter and Wolfram did not get along well; still, Yuuri was dismayed by how quickly Wolfram had reverted to his usual distant, haughty self.

"The banquet should be fun, right, Wolfram?" he said with as much good cheer as he could muster. "It'll be good to see our friends from Small Shimaron again. Gunter, you've seated Sara with me and Wolfram, right?"

"Of course," Gunter replied. "And one of the reasons I was delayed is that I received word that King Saralegui is bringing some additional guests -- two female cousins of his, I believe -- and I had to rearrange things to ensure they would be seated close enough so that you could become better acquainted." Gunter chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I would think he is hoping to forge a much more familiar alliance with Shin Makoku."

Yuuri flinched. "I'm sure that's not true," he said with a nervous laugh. He dared an anxious glance at Wolfram; sure enough, the prince's expression had turned murderous.

"If that is his intent, it would be an unforgivable insult, as he knows you are already engaged," Wolfram spat. "I trust you will set them straight, Yuuri?"

Gunter's eyes took on a mischievous glint that sent a chill up Yuuri's spine. "Oh, I'm sure His Majesty will extend his guests every courtesy within his power to make them feel welcome," he said. "His Majesty would not want to cause offense to our allies, after all."

"Of course not," Yuuri agreed. "I'm sure Sara is just giving his cousins the opportunity to travel abroad. It will be interesting to meet his relations, don't you think?"

Wolfram clenched his teeth. "I had no idea you were so eager to meet every female in that idiot Saralegui's family," he growled. "Are you thinking they'll all be as beautiful as he is?"

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Wolfram, don't be ridiculous," he said.

Wolfram threw his gloves on the floor. "Oh, so now I'm ridiculous for expecting my fiancé to refrain from associating with attractive single women who are looking to marry royalty?" he snapped. "Excuse me for caring about silly things like that!" With that, the blond whirled and stomped toward the door. Yuuri glared at Gunter, who was still smirking at Wolfram's tantrum, and shouted after the departing prince --

"Wolfram, wait!"

"Get stuffed, you cheating wimp!" Wolfram shouted back. Yuuri chased him down the hall and up a flight of stairs, managing to grab his arm just as Wolfram was entering the salon he often used for painting.

"Let me go!" Wolfram yanked his arm away and tried to slam the door in Yuuri's face, but Yuuri managed to slip into the room before the door closed.

"Get out!" Wolfram shouted, stamping his foot and looking every bit the Little Lord Brat that Anissina teasingly called him.

"Why are you acting this way?" Yuuri's voice cracked with frustration. "I couldn't care less about Sara's cousins…"

"I said GET OUT!" Wolfram grabbed a paint tube off a nearby table and threw it at Yuuri. It glanced off the king's shoulder, leaving a few flecks of yellow paint on the dark fabric of his jacket. The sight prompted Yuuri to abandon his half-hearted attempts at reason and give his own temper free rein.

"Dammit, this jacket was brand-new!" he growled, seizing the nearest object he could find -- a sponge floating in a bucket of rinse water -- and hurling it at Wolfram. It hit the prince in the chest with a squelch, marking the pristine white with a brownish-gray splotch.

"How dare you?" Wolfram squawked. His hands scrabbled through the assortment of paints and tools on the table, coming up with a tube of red. He uncapped it and squeezed a blob into his palm, advancing on Yuuri with deadly purpose.

"Just try it," Yuuri hissed, arming himself with a paint tube he found on the tray of Wolfram's easel. He unscrewed the cap and threw it aside, holding the tube in front of him with both hands and pointing it like a gun at his rival. Wolfram threw himself at Yuuri with something of a battle yell, and Yuuri gave the tube a quick, sharp squeeze, sending a ribbon of bright blue paint spattering over Wolfram's torso and thighs. Yuuri tried to turn his head away from Wolfram's swing, but the prince still managed to connect his paint-filled hand with the side of Yuuri's head. The sharp, oily fumes made Yuuri cough, giving Wolfram the opportunity to push the glob of paint deeper into Yuuri's hair.

With an outraged howl, Yuuri shoved Wolfram into the easel, which clattered to the floor. Yuuri squeezed a generous amount of paint into his hand, tossed the tube over his shoulder, and dove on top of Wolfram while the prince was still rising to his feet. Yuuri smashed paint into Wolfram's blond hair and smudged it across his forehead. Wolfram snarled, caught Yuuri's offending hand and pushed it back into Yuuri's own face, marking the king's nose and left cheek with a bright blue handprint. The paint fumes tickling Yuuri's nostrils set off a violent sneezing attack that stopped Wolfram short. Yuuri sank back on his heels, glaring at Wolfram between outbursts of sneezes, and the prince unexpectedly burst into laughter.

"I don't see _*achoo!*_ what you find _*a-CHOO!*_ so funny _*achoo*_ about this _*a-choo*_ situation _*AAAAH-CHOO!*_," Yuuri gasped. He tried to swipe the paint off his nose with his sleeve, but succeeded only in spreading it further over his skin.

"You should see yourself," Wolfram chortled. "Your nose is completely blue… and that patch of red over your ear! You look absurd."

"Look who's talking," Yuuri grumbled. "You've got blue hair, did you know that?"

Wolfram stopped chuckling and gingerly touched his paint-coated tresses. "That's going to be difficult to remove," he winced.

"You asked for it," Yuuri said darkly, pointing to his own red-splotched hair.

"I suppose I did," Wolfram agreed with a half-smile. He rose and held out a hand to Yuuri, who hesitated for a second before taking it. Wolfram pulled Yuuri to his feet, and the king let loose another violent sneeze that knocked him off balance. Yuuri grasped Wolfram's upper arms to steady himself, and Wolfram reflexively grabbed Yuuri's forearms, pulling him closer. Wolfram flushed slightly and quickly released Yuuri as soon as his balance was regained.

"You should wash that paint off before it makes you sick," Wolfram said, pulling a lace-edged handkerchief from his sleeve. "Here, I'll try to get rid of the worst of it for now."

He held the handkerchief up to Yuuri's face and began dabbing methodically at the corner of Yuuri's mouth. Yuuri could feel a blush spreading across his own face in response to Wolfram's ministrations, not to mention the prince's proximity. Wolfram smelled of paint and bran soap and burning matches, and he kept biting his lower lip in concentration. The sight made Yuuri feel flushed and tingly and uncomfortable all at once, like his skin was suddenly too tight for his body. There was no thought, no question, just an undeniable impulse to act. Yuuri caught Wolfram's hands in his own, pressing them both to his cheeks.

"Yuuri, what --" Wolfram began, but Yuuri kissed him before he could finish. Wolfram's lips were every bit as soft and warm as Yuuri remembered, and they moved against his in a way that sent sparks through Yuuri's midsection. Wolfram had tensed at the initial contact, but quickly relaxed into the kiss with a muffled sigh. He slid one hand along Yuuri's jawline, cupping the back of Yuuri's neck and pulling himself closer to Yuuri, whose breath caught at the feel of Wolfram pressing against him.

Unfortunately, his stupid nose chose that moment to interrupt with another string of sneezes. Yuuri sensed them coming and quickly pulled away from Wolfram, burying his face in his jacket sleeve as they exploded from him. When he lifted his head again, Wolfram was hovering over him in concern. Yuuri smiled sheepishly.

"I… ah… sorry… I wish that hadn't happened," he said. He immediately realized his verbal misstep when he saw the color drain from Wolfram's face.

"Wait, Wolfram, I didn't mean --" Yuuri said, reaching for Wolfram, but the prince backed away from him.

"I should go clean up before this paint dries further," he said. Yuuri's mouth snapped shut and he managed a jerky nod as Wolfram darted around him and out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

_There won't be a fourth time,_ Yuuri vowed silently as he stared blindly at the Shin Makoku history book he'd opened 20 minutes ago. He was curled up on a small couch in front of the crackling fire the servants had built in the fireplace of the small parlor adjacent to his bedroom. The nights this time of year in Shin Makoku tended to be chilly, and he was enjoying the fire's warmth.

Unfortunately, the fire also reminded him of a certain hot-tempered mazoku prince that he would never, ever kiss again, no matter what, Yuuri insisted to himself. He would not think about how incendiary that kiss had been, or how much he had wanted it to continue before his unfortunate sneeze attack had interrupted them. _No –it was fortunate. A fortunate sneeze attack,_ Yuuri thought fiercely. _If we'd kept things up, it would have given Wolfram the totally wrong idea…_

The young king sighed and absently turned a page. He would have to break their engagement, Yuuri decided. He had not done so for fear of wounding Wolfram's considerable pride, and so had left him hanging for too long – it wasn't fair to him. Yuuri would apologize to Wolfram for leading him on and set him free from their commitment. Then Yuuri would meet Saralegui's cousins and the daughters and nieces and sisters of the surrounding royal families. Surely at least one of them would be pretty and kind, and would like him well enough to become his queen.

The thought made him feel tired and slightly nauseous. Frustrated, he dropped the neglected book on a nearby table, leaned back and closed his eyes, picturing one of the cute girls he had a crush on in junior high, with her long hair and big brown eyes and sweet smile. He imagined their wedding, watching her walking down the aisle of the throne room in a lavish wedding dress, her features hidden behind a billowing white veil. He could see her approach his side, and feel his own hand reach for the veil covering her face to throw it back so he could see her. He carefully pulled the veil up and over her head, revealing silky, wavy blond hair and green eyes that glinted in the torchlight. Wolfram smiled at him, his rosy lips parting slightly in anticipation of –

Yuuri dropped his head into his hands and groaned at the images conjured by his traitorous imagination. What the hell was happening to him, that he was daydreaming about Wolfram and dresses and weddings? He'd already decided that wasn't going to happen, dammit!

Yuuri sat that way for a few more moments, then opened his eyes, hauled himself off the couch and stomped toward the bedroom door, determined to find Wolfram and straighten things out between them once and for all. He yanked it open, and nearly ran into the person standing there with his fist raised in preparation to knock.

"Oh… it's you!" Yuuri gasped.

"Oh… you're awake." Wolfram took a step back with a slight frown. "Where are you going at this hour?"

"To look for you," Yuuri said, running a hand through his hair with a little laugh, to which Wolfram responded with a look that could almost be called relief. Yuuri stepped aside and motioned Wolfram inside.

"Please come in," Yuuri said, rattling off courtesies to cover his nervousness. "Here, sit by the fire. Can I get you something to drink? The servants brought some mulled wine… I think it's still warm…"

Wolfram stared at Yuuri. "Your etiquette lessons with Gunter are paying off," he said with the beginnings of a smirk. "You're usually not so hospitable when I call on you here."

"Only because you usually barge in uninvited," Yuuri protested. "It's hard to be polite when I wake up with your foot in my face."

Wolfram chuckled briefly. "I guess that's true," he said, his cheeks growing pink. Yuuri swallowed against the sudden catch in his throat and said --

"So, do you want some…"

"Actually, that sounds nice, if it's not too much trouble," Wolfram said, taking a seat on the small sofa directly in front of the fireplace.

"Not at all." Yuuri perched on the opposite end of the sofa and bent over the tray on the table in front of them. He busied himself with pouring the wine, sneaking a glance or two at Wolfram during the process. The prince was wearing regular pajamas for once instead of that ridiculous nightgown, though they were a similar shade of pink, with dark rose piping around the collar and sleeves. Yuuri carefully handed the full glass to Wolfram, trying not to stare at the pale triangle of throat and chest exposed by the modest neckline of the prince's pajama top.

"Thank you." Wolfram accepted the goblet, gracefully cradling it in his slender hand and sipping the wine with practiced ease. Yuuri perched on the other end of the sofa and mimicked the prince's motions, though he couldn't keep from coughing a bit upon swallowing. He still wasn't quite used to the taste of Mazoku wine, which was a good bit stronger than the few sips of Earth wine he'd tried at holiday events. Yuuri braced for another of Wolfram's jibes about his youth and humanity, but apart from a slightly raised eyebrow, Wolfram refrained from comment.

"It's very good, isn't it?" Yuuri said after his second sip went down without incident.

"Yes," Wolfram replied, keeping his eyes on the fire. Yuuri spent a few silent moments admiring the way the prince's blond hair reflected the flickering firelight, working up the courage to voice the realization he'd come to in the moments before he had opened his bedroom door.

"I- I'm, um, sorry about…" Yuuri finally stammered, just as Wolfram said --

"Forgive me for…"

They both stopped short, and Yuuri chuckled. "You go first," he said.

Wolfram looked down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap. "I was… I wanted to apologize for earlier," he said.

Yuuri shook his head. "No, no… I behaved just as badly," he said. "I'm just glad all the paint washed out okay."

Wolfram took a deep breath and looked directly at Yuuri. "Actually," he said, "I meant to apologize for leaving so abruptly."

Yuuri's stomach did a strange sort of flip. "Oh," he replied, feeling a blush coming on that had nothing to do with the fire. Wolfram looked like he was expecting Yuuri to continue, so he swallowed and added --

"Yeah, uh… about that… um, you know… _that_…"

Wolfram managed a tremulous smile. "It's all right," he said. "You've already apologized for --"

Yuuri shook his head violently back and forth. "No, no!" he protested. "That's what I wanted to say before… what I was apologizing for was my sneezing. Not… not the _other_ thing."

Wolfram's eyes narrowed. "Yuuri, exactly what are you saying?" he asked.

Yuuri set his wine glass on the table, his eyes locked on Wolfram's. "The reason I was coming to look for you," Yuuri said, "is because I know now that it wasn't an accident at all."

Wolfram tilted his head. "I'm not sure I understand," he said, pursing his lips in a way that made them impossible for Yuuri to ignore. He found himself sliding closer to Wolfram without thinking.

"I wanted to," Yuuri breathed, amazed at how light the admission made him feel, as if he could float high enough to touch the castle's tallest spire. He touched Wolfram's free hand, which was clenched in the prince's lap. "I still want to."

Wolfram's expression softened as he absorbed the implication of Yuuri's words. "_Oh,_" he sighed, a single syllable that somehow managed to express a wealth of relief and joy and longing. He turned his hand over to clasp Yuuri's and leaned in close.

The fourth time, Yuuri thought, dizzy with wine and warmth and the way Wolfram's mouth seemed to meld perfectly with his own. The fourth time was no accident, and was definitely mutual. He didn't realize he'd said any of this aloud until Wolfram murmured during a brief pause for breath –

"I think, my king, that I shall consider it my duty to make you lose count altogether."

~end~


End file.
